


Addict with a Pen

by notimmortal



Series: Invisible [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drug Use, Episode: The Abominable Bride, Gen, Hurt Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Not A Happy Ending, Probably very ooc I'm sorry, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5631328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimmortal/pseuds/notimmortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of The Abominable Bride and the defeat of Moriarty, Sherlock turns to drugs in an attempt to remain in his mind palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addict with a Pen

**Author's Note:**

> Song for this fic is "Addict with a Pen" by Twenty One Pilots. Song lyrics are in italics.

_Hello. We haven’t talked in quite some time. I know I haven’t been the best of sons._

The case of Moriarty’s return had been solved.

 

The threat was gone, no longer looming dangerously over England. With his departure, so went John as well.

 

John had stuck with me for Moriarty’s take down. He had been there to help me solve the case, to help me defeat my enemy. Then he was gone. Back to his domesticated life with Mary and the child they were soon to be having. Back to the lies he had said before, that he would visit, that nothing would change.

 

I hadn’t left the mind palace since.

_Hello. I’ve been travelling in the deserts of my mind and I haven’t found a drop of life. I haven’t found a drop of you. I haven’t found a drop. I haven’t found a drop of water._

Now that I knew the increased ability of my mind palace while I was on drugs, my life had begun to spiral again. I was certain Mycroft was more worried than he let on, constantly collecting lists from me. He never said anything, but I knew this was hurting him emotionally as much as it was hurting me physically. Neither of us said anything.

 

Lestrade was furious when he found out. When I stopped answering the phone and showing up for cases, he came to see me. I was so far into my drug-induced fantasy that I didn’t even know he was there. He slapped and shook me, shocking me out of my inebriated state. He screamed and shouted about how I was wasting my brain, wasting my life.

 

“What life? John is gone.”

 

My words shut him up about it for good. He never did come back.

 

_I try desperately to run through the sand as I hold the water in the palm of my hand cos it’s all that I have and all that I need and the waves of the water mean nothing to me._

My trips into the mind palace weren’t always Victorian, but as of late the world of Holmes and Watson was the one in my head I favoured the most. In that world, Mary had John, but I did too. It was balanced, actually a bit unbalanced since Watson and Holmes were rarely apart. So different from the world I was currently living in.

 

The world of Holmes and Watson made me realize the depth of my feelings for John. He kept me right, even in my high state. He was all that I needed, the waves of pain from the high meaning nothing if it meant I could hold onto John for a bit longer. Holmes and Watson were nearly in love. John and I were not.

 

_But I try my best and all that I can to hold tightly on to what’s left in my hand. But no matter how, how tightly I will strain, the sand will slow me down and the water will drain._

The highs could not last forever, I knew that. The days between my intake of new drugs were hard, reality dragging me down. Mrs. Hudson was terrified that I would cause more harm to myself than just the drugs. I’m almost positive the only reason she hadn’t had me evicted was due to Mycroft and general motherly instinct.

 

I knew that the drugs would destroy my mind, slowly but surely. I hadn’t yet lost my ability to deduce others, seeing all kinds of information on people whenever I found myself sober enough to leave the house for food and more drugs. The noise was only slightly dulled, even with the large amount of drugs I had been taking. It didn’t matter, in the end. The only thing that had ever removed the noise completely was John.

 

_I’m just being dramatic, in fact I’m only at it again as an addict with a pen who’s addicted to the wind as it blows me back and forth, mindless, spineless, and pretend._

 

For a man who promised to keep in touch, John never came to see me. Never sent a single message. I wondered if Lestrade had told him of my using. I scratched the thought, knowing that John would have come here blindingly angry if Lestrade had informed him. Sometimes the high made me forget John existed, forget I existed. We became Holmes and Watson, two men who mattered to each other.

 

I no longer meant anything to John.

 

If he found out about all of the drugs, I’d mean less than nothing to him. It shouldn’t matter, I was just his friend for a fashion. I never should have gotten so attached, needing him like air. In my mind, he needed me just as much. I meant nothing in the real world.

 

I started staying high longer and getting high more constantly. I needed to stay in the world where John cared about me. I needed to stay in a world where I could love John and he loved me. I would die trying to keep that world.

 

_Of course I’ll be here again, see you tomorrow. But it’s the end of today, end of my ways as a walking denial my trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case._

“Has he left the house at all?” I hear someone say, barely registering it as I woke up from another drug-induced dream. The voice was hard and cold, worried but not letting it show. Definitely Mycroft.

 

“No. I heard from Lestrade and he says he hasn’t seen Sherlock since he came here a few weeks ago,” the voice sounded softer, most likely Mrs. Hudson.

 

“And John?”

 

“John… hasn’t been around at all. I figured you knew that, Mycroft.”

 

“I had hoped that my information was wrong. Then again, Sherlock wouldn’t be in this state if John had been here.”

 

There was silence above me for a few moments. I heard slight sniffling, more likely than not Mrs. Hudson. “I’m afraid he will kill himself, Mycroft. He’s always… always on some kind of drug or sleeping off another. I’ve sent you more lists than I can count. He’s wasting away, suicidal most likely.”

 

“Not suicidal, Mrs. Hudson. Lonely.”

 

_But you specialize in dying. I hear you screaming father. And I’m lying here just crying. So wash me with your water._

The voices stopped and I found myself slipping into another dream. We were Holmes and Watson again, but there was no Mary. Just us. Watson was holding me, kissing my head lightly. His moustache creating a scratching feeling, but I enjoyed it all the same.

 

“You’re going to end up killing yourself like this, Holmes.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, Watson. You know all of this is just a story, a façade set up by my mind,” I sigh, settling further into Watson’s arms. “I’m happy here.”

 

“Were you not happy out there? Is the other me not enough?”

 

“The other you is gone,” I whisper softly. The words reverberate throughout the entire mind palace, shaking me to the core. “You’re all I have left.”

 

“Is that worth dying for?” Watson asks, a hand carding through my hair. “Am I worth dying for?”

 

“Of course you are. In this world, in any world, in every world.”

 

“You need to wake up Sherlock,” Watson said. Only it didn’t sound like the more posh and steady English Watson usually spoke with. The world was going fuzzy again, and it felt as though I was being shaken. “Sherlock, wake up.”

 

My eyes blink open. “John?”

 

_Hello. We haven’t talked in quite some time. I know I haven’t been the best of sons. Hello, I’ve been travelling in the desert of my mind and I haven’t found a drop of life._

“Oh Sherlock. Why have you done this to yourself?” John’s voice is soft, anger hides around the edges, but it doesn’t show completely. There is no way John is actually here, John is not with me. Not anymore.

 

“You’re not real,” I say, pushing the fake John off of me. “You’re gone.”

 

_I haven’t found a drop of you._

“I’m not gone, Sherlock. I’m right here. Right here in front of you.”

 

“You’re a memory, a figment of my imagination produced by the drugs. It’s been a while since we’ve been in the present. Nice change of pace, I suppose.

 

_I haven’t found a drop._

John looked sad. He looked scared. Pulling me closely, John began to sob into my shoulder. “I’m really here, Sherlock. I’m right here and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to stop this, stop it before it became a problem.”

 

I shake my head, not believing what I was hearing. “You can’t be real. John is gone. John has been gone since Moriarty was defeated.” There were tears streaming down my own face now, and pain prickling in my chest.

 

_I haven’t found a drop._

“Sherlock, I am right here. I’m real, I’m here. Please, stop this. Snap out of it. I’m here. I’m real. Please, Sherlock, I can’t lose you again,” John’s voice was rough. It was real. John was here. John came back.

 

“John?”

 

_Of water._

**Author's Note:**

> So I lied last time, this is not the conclusion of the series. This song just fit the special so well, I couldn't help myself. There will be more to this series. I hope you guys enjoyed this fic, thank you for reading.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated (but not necessary)


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